


The Exam Game - Potions

by 89JadedPictures



Series: The Exam Game [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, F/M, Four parts, Later Smut, M/M, Multi, Potions, The Exam Game Series, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad - Freeform, adventure time!, eigth year, secluded island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/89JadedPictures/pseuds/89JadedPictures
Summary: After being separated into groups, the entire 8th year class must take a randomized exam which will gauge their general logic. However, the tests are out of the ordinary. After being put together to pass a Potions exam being held on a secluded Caribbean island, Draco, Harry and Hermione are tested far more than they thought they’d be.





	1. Potions (Part 1)

Wednesday, September 9th, 1998 - 7:50 a.m. GMT(-4)/(12:50 p.m. GMT(+0))  
-1 hour to go  
Potion Status: Complete

She was having a come apart to say the least. 

If I could actually say anything, that is. 

Harry had set a defense shield up around him and I so as to guard us from the projectiles Hermione’s magic was throwing around the tent in her silent shrieking. I was sure that, if she could make noise at the present moment, her howling would drown out that of the storm that raged outside. 

I couldn’t really blame her, though. If she hadn’t started in on the raving and uncontrollable magic, I would have. 

The three of us were now completely confused, because our Portkey had not only failed to glow when we’d drank our potion, but it failed to do so again at 7 a.m. like we’d hoped. We’d stood there, staring at it for near a half an hour, waiting for it show us that we had passed our test, and that we could to go back to Hogwarts, but nothing had come of it. And now, almost an hour later, Hermione Granger was giving Harry and I one hell of a showing of power. 

I looked over to Harry, who I would say was totally recovered from the Lethifold attack and was now able to, thank fucking Merlin, wear clothes, and gave him a look of concern. He shrugged at me as a candle hit the barrier, almost bringing it down in the man’s distraction. We looked back over to the witch, and I shook my head in aggravation as I thought back to what had gotten us in this mess to begin with…

(*)

Monday, September 7th, 1998 - 8:15 a.m. (GMT+0)/3:15 a.m. (GMT-4)  
Hours?  
Potion Status: Meditative

“As most of you know, and for those who were present during last school year, the Department of Education has deemed that the curriculum set forth, and pertaining to, Muggle Studies and Dark Arts, and with the negation of Defense Against the Dark Arts, your seventh year educations are incomplete, and these courses must be retaken before you are able to graduate.”

McGonagall's voice rang throughout the Great Hall, which contained the 36 students who would have graduated the year prior: the currently deemed “8th Years”. The Headmistress stood next to a short, white, cylindrical pedestal that sat at the top of the stairs before the high table, and an open black box sat atop it. There was also a pile of different styled and different colored bags that lie behind her to her left.

“I know that not all of you had planned to be here this year,” McGonagall went on. “I’m positive that some of you had more important ventures, so the Minister for Magic and I had a very long talk about a week ago that led to our agreeing to give you all the opportunity to participate in only one of the two terms this year.”

A whisper ripped through the Great Hall, and I could not help but join them, turning to Blaise to ask, “What the actual fuck?”

He shrugged at me, and we continued to listen as the Headmistress went on,

“If you pass our test, you will be awarded a very early summer holiday, starting the second that Christmas Holiday begins. Those who fail will be required to stay until final exams in June.

“Those of you who do not wish to participate in the test- which is not a written exam before you go asking, Mr. Weasley- may stay put. Those of you who wish to forgo the opportunity I am presenting are free to leave now.”

Three students turned and walked out the door; a Hufflepuff, Roger Malone, and two Ravenclaws, Stephen Cornfoot and Sue Li.

“Is that it?” The Headmistress asked as she looked around. “No one else?”

The rest of us who stayed, the 33 curious students that remained, looked about, noticed that no one else was taking the opportunity to leave, and then turned back to listen to McGonagall as she began to explain what I would later learn to be the hardest test I’d ever taken.

“It would seem that that’s that,” McGonagall toned before she became more serious to say, “We shall begin immediately. I will be performing a spell that will randomly choose groups of four. There may be a group or two with three. When those groups have been established, I want you to stand together, and then I will inform you of the next step. And, Mr. Weasley, before you ask, yes, you must work with your group throughout the entire exam, and no, you cannot trade spots with another student to be on a different team.” 

Weasley sulked with a deep frown as a few of those around us tittered or laughed at the specific attention he was receiving, and I smirked at him. McGonagall knew he’d complain about something faster than Hermione could even ask a question.

“Now,” McGonagall said, clearing her throat, “Without further ado…” She raised her wand and said, “Constituo Humanus.” 

A ball of the light formed at the tip of her wand, and it grew in size and brightness until the Headmistress lowered her hand. The ball of light then split into 33 smaller balls of light of varying colors, which began to fly about the room, choosing a student and floating just above of their heads.

I looked up to mine as the others did, noting its white glow, and looked among the sea of purple, green, blue, pink, red, orange, black, and yellow ones to locate my team members. Finnigan tried to grab his orb instead of looking for his teammates, not that that mattered much considering he was practically standing hand in hand with one of them; the one and only Dean Thomas, who also had a blue orb of his own. I also got momentarily distracted by Brocklehurst attempting to move hers by blowing gusts of air at it. 

I first noticed Hermione’s white orb, the witch standing beside the purple orbed Weasley, and she gave a look of annoyance that pulled her full lips into a tight frown as she began to walk towards me. I could not deny that I was worried at her expression, but it brightened into a wide grin as Harry, who’d been out of sight standing beside the taller, broader form of Ron, fell into step beside her as they walked from one end of the room to the other in my direction.

For a moment I regretted taking pleasure in the Weasley man’s reaction to not being able to trade with another student, because I would have traded with him in a heartbeat as the two Gryffindors stopped a meter from me, wearing matching looks of displeasure and determination as Harry said, “It looks like it’s just the three of us.”

I looked about the room one last time for stragglers, and when I realized that there were no other students with a white orb, I turned back and nodded with a sigh, saying, “It would seem so.” Then I asked offhandedly, and mostly as an excuse to look away from them as I asked, “What could we possibly be doing that there would be a need for teams?” My eyes scanned McGonagall once more, as well as the box and packs.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione, with her frown still in place, answered, “I have no idea, Malfoy. But you’d better help us.” Her tone was hostile, and I could swear I heard an intoned, “this time”. 

I looked back at her with a tightened jaw, but said nothing, only for my attention to be drawn away once more when McGonagall yelled over the chatter, “Are there any groups of three?” 

Hermione’s hand was the first to go up, naturally, while her eyes were still glued to mine and glaring. Then Padma Patil, AKA The Blue Patil, who stood between Oliver Rivers and Sophie Roper, from the black team, raised her hand. Then Daphne Greengrass, who stood between Neville Longbottom and Michael Corner, from the red team, did as well.

“Wonderful,” McGonagall said pleasantly as she looked between the three teams, before settling on us. “Come up here, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. Your team first.”

We did as we were told, and I readily ignored the glare that Weasley gave me at the sight of me being grouped with his besties. He shouldn’t have been so mad, though. He was on a team with Megan Jones, Lisa Turpin and Pansy, and last I’d checked they’d all scored higher than him in everything. It was likely they would pass their test on the three women’s knowledge alone.

And, if the rumors were true, he was still single, so he was bound to have fun with the estrogen heavy team. Except for with Pansy, because, well… That should just be obvious.

“Here we have a box of Portkeys.” The Headmistress began as she motioned to the box to which the three of us had just drawn near. “There are nine of them. Seven represent the seven core subjects: History of Magic, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology. The other two represent two random extracurriculars, which were pulled from a hat, and are Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. 

“Upon a team member choosing one of these Portkeys, your group will be assigned a subject. You will be given a piece of parchment with instructions for your task inside of a pack,” she motioned to the pile of packs, “which will also contain all you will need for your journey. Keep your Portkey in your pack, and keep your pack safe, for you will need your Portkey to return home once your test is complete. 

“The Portkey is spelled to sense when you’ve finished and will then begin to glow. It will transport you back here once all of you have come in contact with it. If you fail to complete your test, the Portkey will glow when your time is up. If you apparate home before the test is complete, you forfeit your early holiday. If you can apparate home, that is… Any questions?”

33 hands went up into the air.

The Headmistress gave a loud, hearty laugh that stunned us all into wide-eyed stares of fear, before that fear cemented itself in our hearts as she said, “I was only joking. You’re all on your own. Your instructions will tell you all you need to know.

“Now, Miss Granger. Go ahead and choose a Portkey.”

Hermione looked up at our Headmistress in shock, before looking to first Harry, then over at me, and then peered into the box of Portkeys as we all did. We inspected them all without touching them- a shoe, a menu from Madam Puddifoot’s, a necklace, a birdhouse, a canteen, a thermometer, a snow globe depicting Big Ben, a teddy bear, and a vinyl record- and I heard the witch beside me gulp audibly as she reached into the box and pulled out the thermometer.

I would have chosen the snow globe.

We looked at the thermometer- a long instrument made of mostly metal and glass, and half a meter long- before turning our gazes to McGonagall, who smiled as she said, “You have chosen the thermometer. Your subject is Potions.” I gave a loud sigh of relief, which made Harry and Hermione glance at me with raised brows, and the Headmistress went on, “Your pack is the yellow duffel bag.” She motioned to the pile of packs, and I made to pick up the yellow bag as I was closest. It was obviously empty, for it was deflated, but as I lifted it, it felt like it weighed a tonne.

“Within it are your instructions,” McGonagall stated. “Now. Take hold of the Portkey, all of you. And good luck.”

“This bag is heavy,” I stated to the Headmistress, nodding to the duffel in my hand. 

“Good luck to you, Mr. Malfoy,” was all the wizened witch said, giving me a raised brow as she motioned with her eyes to the thermometer. 

Harry sighed heavily before grabbing the opposite end of the thermometer from Hermione, and I pursed my lips as I slowly reached to set my hand between theirs. But my look of unease disappeared as I did, the hook of the Portkey taking the back of my neck and pulling me into the nothing, only to spit me out into a location that was muggy, hot, and cloaked in the darkness of night.

Harry and Hermione had appeared safely beside me, the three of us in a circle around the Portkey, and in seconds we all had our wands out, and turned to be back-to-back-to-back as we went on guard in our dark surroundings. We all immediately chorused, “Lumos.”

The jungle around us became more visible as the three lights came to life, showing us the thick foliage and tall trees that blocked out a large majority of the moon light. The sounds of birds could be heard, as well as the rustle and shaking of the leaves as an ocean breeze flew through the branches, its smell distinct by the salt in the air.

“What in the bloody hell?” Harry asked, turning about as he looked up and down and all around. “Where are we?”

“Judging by the darkness and the morning birds-” Hermione began as she reached over for the duffel and pulled it from my grip with not so much as a please or thank you. I frowned at her in the Lumos light, but she ignored me as she went on, “- I’d say somewhere south-west of England. It’s early, early morning.”

She set the duffle at her feet, for she too had difficulty holding it for too long, and opened the deflated, tonne-weighing bag to expose a single piece of rolled parchment lying at the bottom. She reached down to pull it out, unsealed and unrolled it, and began to read it aloud,

“Miss Granger,

“I must say I am pleased by your choice in subjects, and I eagerly await to find out how you, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter fare in the test to come. 

“The three of you are on a small island north-east of the Caribbean island Anguilla, which is owned by the British Ministry of Magic, is unplottable, and goes by the name Rayella (Pronounced ray-yay-ya). It is four miles long and two miles wide. It is uninhabited, as it is used for research purposes only, so you should be undisturbed and able to focus on your test, which is to brew the potion on the back of this parchment.” 

Hermione stopped reading to turn the parchment over, and noted that the back of the letter was still empty before she said, “What..? It’s not here.”

She shook her head in confusion and kept reading.

“Unlike the majority of your classmates, you are not scheduled to return to Hogwarts until two days from now-"

“What?!” I nearly yelled, surprised, angry and confused. 

Why would McG do me so dirty; to stick me with the Wonder Twins for two days on a secluded island? 

She must really hate me…

“- or 51 hours to be exact-”

“That’s not two days!” Harry interjected. 

I momentarily wanted to throttle him for unnecessarily stating the obvious.

“- which should give you enough time to find the ingredients that either live or grow on the island, or have been placed, and brew your potion as long as knowledge and camaraderie allow.”

“Pff!” I gave a gust of air through my lips, because “camaraderie” was not likely. Hermione was still glaring.

“And, unlike your classmates,” the grouchy woman went on, “your test will have an extra element of difficulty, seeing as I am sure that the three of you would have mostly found the original version of this test quite boring. Your seven ingredients will appear on this parchment, but only one at a time, and only after you have located the last ingredient listed will the next appear, and only when you’ve found them all will your instructions appear.

“Keep in mind that your potion will take 22 hours to brew.

“The same goes for the map of the island as far as divulgence goes. You will now find the map in your pack, which will reveal itself as you explore your surroundings.

“Also inside of your pack is a tent, complete with a brewing station and food you may prepare for yourselves, and water. I suggest you set up camp so that you can brew your potion once you’ve found all of your ingredients. When your potion is complete, the three of you must drink the proper dose before your Portkey will consider bringing you back. 

“We expect to see you back here in two days, by lunch at 12 p.m. GMT on the 9th of September. And, once again, I wish you all good luck. Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.

“P.S. Do know that Summoning or Conjuring ingredients for this potion will be counted as cheating and the penalty for cheating means the forfeiture of your early holiday.”

Hermione looked up to us as she finished reading, and Harry scoffed as he said, “That sounds lovely. What if there’s an emergency?”

“I thought our whole lives were emergencies,” I said, rolling my eyes at the hell I found myself in.

“You can say that again,” Harry grumbled.

“Our whole lives are emergencies,” I repeated. 

He gave me a one-sided smile, which I was surprised to see but returned nonetheless, and Hermione turned to Harry to say, “First things first. We need to find somewhere safe to pitch that tent, because we have 29 hours to find our ingredients and have enough time to brew the potion. The first ingredient is, of course, 3.8 liters of water boiled to 205 degrees Celsius, so let’s set up the tent and get started since there’s water in it.”

“I will admit,” I interjected before she could go any further, turning to face the both of them, my annoyance triggering at watching Hermione Granger act like her same old bossy self, “that out of the two of you, you, Granger, are the obvious choice for leadership.” They both glared at me, the expressions almost eerie in the bright blue-white of the wands. “But with me here, we shou-”

“Malfoy. It is obvious to everyone that you are not fit to make decisions, so, therefore, I am the obvious choice to do so. No offense, Harry.” The wizard shrugged, saying nothing. She went on, her frown still in place. “You can do the brewing, though, for I must admit that you are the obvious choice for that part of the test.”

Harry and I both blinked at her for a second, wherein she continued to glare at me, before I asked, “Did you just insult and compliment me at the same time?”

“Take it or leave it, Malfoy. Now,” she turned to Harry, her expression changing instantly to one of pleasantry and determination, “What do you think of camping by the beach? I’d be too worried to sleep deep in the trees.”

“I agree. No more forest camping. Beach camping only,” Harry said, then cast a Nox before casting a Point Me. He followed his wand 180 degrees, the tip pointing between the witch and me, and without wasting another second, The Man Who Lived took off towards the east.

“Where are you going?” I asked his back, reaching to grab the duffel from the witch who had tried to pick it up, ignoring what it felt like to touch her hand in my doing so.  
“The island is only two miles wide. I’m heading east,” he answered. “Eventually we’ll find the ocean.”

Hermione moved past me to follow him, and I took up the rear, looking about with my Lumos at every rustle or crackling of a twig, listening for many minutes as Hermione rambled.

“Why in the hell won’t she tell us what the potion is, at least? …And why would we need to come here to brew it? Why send us to the Caribbean for this test? Why not just put us all in rooms and not let us out until we were done, or something? This seclusion is dangerous… McGonagall probably feels we can handle this Harry, but what if another group had gotten this test? Not many would be able to do this without first losing their heads.

“Do you think this was intentional? Do you think she planned all of this? Well, except maybe the Malfoy part?” She gasped loudly as I frowned at her back, then she asked Harry, “What if this is some ruse?” She gasped again, then exclaimed, “This is a test! A test of how well we can work together!”

“Well done, Granger. You’ve figured it out,” I drawled, already tired of listening to her read too far into things. “McGonagall convinced Kingsley to extend an inconceivable amount of money, resources, and favors so that she could send forty eighth-years on field trips for friendship. Get a hold of yourself!”

“He’s got a point, Hermione,” Harry admitted, though slightly begrudgingly. 

I ignored his tone and said, “Thank you. It’s good to know that one of the two of you are smart, and not just paranoid and book smart.”

Hermione looked like she was quelling an urge to kill me, which I endeavored to stay stoic through despite being slightly scared- as well as annoyed with myself for not being able to stop harassing her- Harry held up a hand at me as if to say, “Be cool with the insults,”, before going on, “What could possibly come from forcing us to work together, only to let us out into the world without each other four months later?”

“Right?” I agreed, moving to walk alongside him through the bushes, as well as avoiding the witch’s burning stare. “If all of the other subjects are this elaborate, you have to take into account how much it costs to expedite the processing of international Portkeys. And then you add that she planned this a week ago. It takes almost a month to get a Portkey to the Caribbean. Believe me, I know.”

“Then the food, the packs full of God knows what,” Harry threw in. “She’s our Headmistress, not some mischievous aunt playing pranks.”

“Yeah,” I said, then added, “She’s also a Gryffindor. Gryffindors do weird shite. She isn’t a Hufflepuff, out to make us hold hands and skip through the daisies. This is undoubtedly just a fair way to test our skills and general knowledge of all subjects. If I-”

Harry and I both stopped walking, turning around to see that Hermione wasn’t behind us anymore, but we could still see her Lumos some meters back, growing closer, though slowly. When she broke through the leaves, she gave us both a serious look as she said, “It’s nice to see you two are already proving me right... I love being right.”

She then moved to walk between us, pushing past us both with her shoulders knocking into ours, before quietly beginning to take the lead herself. Harry and I looked at one another for a moment, and Harry waited for the witch to walk a few more paces before saying in a low voice, “She’s usually right, you know.”

“Oh,” I said with a nod. “I know. But it just seems highly unlikely to me.”

“It does to me, too,” he agreed. “But either way, whatever the reason, we still have to pitch a tent and brew a potion.”

(*)

Monday, September 7th, 1998 – 5:45 a.m. (GMT-4)/10:45 a.m. (GMT+0)  
50 hours to go  
Potion Status: Pending (28 hours until brewing must begin)

Setting the tent up had taken Harry and Hermione only a few seconds, the two long familiar with one another and the chore. The Gryffindors quickly got accustomed to the fact that we all had to live together in a small space, the two picking the bunk beds before Harry began to unpack the duffel. Hermione made herself a snack from the fridge.  
I sat on my single cot that sat a meter away from their bunk bed as I watched them, learning as they did, but vicariously.

By the time that Harry pulled the cauldron from the duffel, I was on him, grabbing the pewter object from his hands as I moved to the stovetop. I set the cauldron atop the burner and moved to grab a jug of water from where Hermione had located it in one of the cupboards by the doorway. 

“53 ITs of powdered Ghost Crab shell.” The witch had picked up the letter and looked at the back. She must have noticed the next ingredient appear once I grabbed the water jug. She set the letter down with a sigh, adding, “Well. I’m glad we chose to walk to the ocean. My guess is that the Ghost Crabs are out there.”

She pointed out the open door of the tent that flapped in the light breeze.

“On it!” Harry exclaimed, kicking off his shoes before dashing out the door.

I watched him go with my jaw slackened, before tightening it and turning to the witch to ask, “He’s having fun with this, isn’t he?”

She gave me a small glare as she said with a harsh tone, “Yes. Yes he is.”

“Does that bother you?” I asked, wondering why her face and voice would be so sour at watching Harry Potter be happy. 

“No,” she answered, her glare deepening.

It took me a moment to realize that I was what was bothering her, which I shouldn’t have been surprised about, and when it hit me I glared back as I asked, “Is my presence vexing you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked in a voice so unamused Severus would have been proud.

The urge to argue was there. Oh, Merlin, did I want to reply with a jibe or an insult, but I had sworn some months ago that, if ever given the chance, I would do my best not to fight her or Harry. I hadn’t come to grips with reality enough to stop berating Ron, but, baby steps… and I took those baby steps right out the door to find Harry splashing in the waves like some child, leaving Hermione to scowl and glare in the tent like some bitter old bat.

Harry’s Lumos flashed and danced as he bounded back and forth in the water, peering down as he looked for the Ghost Crabs. He had a smile on his face, and I watched him for a few moments as I marveled at how carefree he looked. I’d never seen him behave so. Life had been so cruel for so long, I was sure there had never been a time that I could have witnessed him in such a state of simple bliss.

I almost didn’t want to disturb him, but he noticed me standing at my place by the tent, and he waved me over to join him. I faltered at first, before finally deciding to kick off my baby seal loafers and roll them up in my robe before walking over to him, asking,

“Find one?”

“No,” he answered. “Help me, yeah?”

“’Course,” I said, grabbing my wand from my pocket and casting a Lumos, joining him in his search.

It wasn’t as strange as I thought it would be. We didn’t talk much, and though it was kind of weird to be working with him, it was almost peaceful. The last time he and I had seen each other, besides at the welcome dinner the night before, was during my sentencing. We’d all been present at my hearing, but it had taken the jury a week to decide before calling me back from Azkaban to tell me I was to be acquitted due to my age and other such circumstances. However, I was on a probationary period that would last five years.

I absently wondered if McGonagall told my PO that I was leaving the country.

I shrugged it off.

Harry seemed to accept my punishment as fair, and Ron had looked pretty pissed. Hermione had been in between. Her face hadn’t been red like the Weasel’s, but she hadn’t given me a nod of semi-pleasant acknowledgement like the man who stood a few meters away from me had.

That was when I’d decided I wouldn’t give Harry hell. Hermione fell in because she deserved some respect for working so hard to free everyone from the hell we’d found ourselves in.

But that Ron Weasley, man…

I hoped he wasn’t being too much of a prick to Pansy. He really was such a dick sometimes. I have my moments, this is true, but the youngest Weasley man had a temper that had seemed to grate on many. His outbursts were ludicrous.

I supposed it could have been worse. He could have been in the group with us.

“I think we’re going to have to dive, Malfoy,” Harry eventually called to me. “I haven’t seen anything. They’re Ghost Crabs. Don’t you think they’d be out at night?”

I rolled my eyes as sense hit me, and I cast a Nox before saying, “Turn your light out, Potter.”

He did and he walked over to me, doing his best to look into the water with the dim light of the stars, asking, “Do you think we scared them with the light?”

“I don’t know,” I said as we walked up onto the sandy beach. “I’ve never gone Ghost Crab hunting before.”

“Done much hunting?” Harry asked me, seeming rather genuine in his asking.

“No. I can’t say that I have,” I admitted. “I’ve done plenty of Crup coursing, though.”

“Crup coursing?” He asked with a smile, to which I nodded. “I have to see that shite…” he mused. He then looked back to the ground, saying, “I wish we could just summon a damn crab.”

“That would be nice,” I agreed.

“But too easy,” he added with a sigh as he sat down beside me. I remained standing, and I glanced back at the tent that Hermione had yet to emerge from.

I sighed this time, stating, “Granger is avoiding me, I think.”

“Let her,” Harry answered. “She’ll come around. She’s no fan of you, but she knows that we’ll need all the potions help we can get.”

“And if she doesn’t?” I asked. “Come around, that is?”

He shrugged. “She’s pretty forgiving. You can thank Ron for that.” He paused, then added, “But you’d do best not to piss her off. She can be quite scary.”

“I’ve noticed.” I really had. “What do you think she’s doing in there?” 

Out of all of the years I’d been graced with Hermione Granger’s presence, I had never known her to sit out and watch others pass a test for her. It was usually the opposite, actually.

“If it is one thing Hermione hates it’s not knowing something. She’s probably conjuring every Potions book she knows of, trying to find all of the potions that include Ghost Crab.”  
“Wouldn’t- that- be cheating?” I asked, looking down at him with furrowed brows as I crossed my arms.

“Ha! Yeah. But the rules didn’t say anything against it.”

I stared down at him in disbelief for many seconds before finally asking, “Are you serious?”

“We play to win, Malfoy,” was his easy answer.

I scoffed, because I shouldn’t have been surprised. How many times had they bent the rules and I felt it was just so like them to do so? 

At least fifty.

But I played it off by drawling, “That was an all too Slytherin answer.”

“Meh… Slytherin. Gryffindor. Huff. Rave… It’s all the same. We’re just people. Really- really messed up people.”

“You can say that again.”

“Really- really… Wait.” He stopped, eyes still straight ahead, his hand slowly rising to point at something as he said, “Do you see that?”

Just as he asked this, I did see it. Something that was hardly visible against the sand moved slowly to our left some three meters ahead at the edge of the water, and before I could decide what it was, Harry had his wand out, casting, “Stupefy.”

We ran to the immobilized, sand-colored Ghost Crab, and Harry picked it up by a limp claw as he said with a smile, “Bingo.”

“You know I don’t want to say this, but good eye, Potter.”

He gave me a small laugh, then asked, “Was that hard to say?”

I held my chest, over my heart, and jokingly replied, “I think my heart tried to seize.”

He laughed again as he began to walk to the tent, me trailing him, the both of us now avoiding the other Ghost Crabs that had decided to emerge from the darkness, and he called out to Hermione as we entered, “Honey! I brought breakfast!”

“Splendid,” Hermione monotoned from behind her book, pointing to the stove where a pot of boiling water was on the burner beside the cauldron. “Drop it in there.”

Harry moved to do so, and I walked to the table that was now covered in some ten different potions books, looking at and reading all of the bindings I could. I stopped behind her, saying, “You hit it on the nose, Potter. She’s looking the potion up.”

“Yep,” the Gryffindor man said as he poked at the crab with a fork. 

“Here, Granger,” I said as I moved to her left, using my wand to conjure three books from my library at home. “These are from the Manor’s library. They’re mine, once my great-grandfather’s, so do be nice to them. Also. They aren’t cursed, so don’t ask.”

She looked up at me at this, then to the books, setting the one in her hand down as she said, “Thank you, Malfoy,” before looking at the new books’ bindings.

“My pleasure,” I said, grabbing the one from the bottom of the stack and sitting in the chair beside her, opening the cover as I joined her in her task.

“It’s already changing color,” Harry said.

“Give it another minute,” I answered.

He nodded and kept watching.

(*)

Monday, Sept 7th, 1998 – 3:45 p.m (GMT-4)/8:45 p.m. (GMT+0)  
40 hours to go  
Potion Status: Pending

Once the Ghost Crab had been boiled and cooked, I used the stone and mortar to crush the shell into powder. The second I finished, the next ingredient had appeared: Six Dittany leaves at least 25 mm in length.

Hermione had packed lunch, and I had packed the books into the duffel before we left the tent and began our early morning journey back into the jungle as the sun rose behind us.

I found the Dittany only a 100 paces from our tent, which had been anticlimactic to say the least. However, our next ingredient, four Axolotl legs, had proven more difficult, and far more dramatic. 

Once Hermione had gone searching through the duffel in hopes of it giving her a specific tome, and then having it supply it, the witch was not happy. The book had many a picture of Axolotls; creatures I found to be interesting, not so interesting to Harry, and “absolutely adorable” to Hermione.

When she’d seen the first picture of pale pink, four-legged fish, she went, “Aaaaaaaawwe! They’re absolutely adorable!” Then she paused before her face soured, and her tone deepened as she growled, “We have to cut their legs off?!”

Harry seemed a little worried at this, which I deduced was from fear of based on knowledge; how we ALL knew how Hermione detested the mistreatment/mutilation of any creature besides Voldemort. I asked for the book, which she gave to me, and after reading about them for only a few minutes I was able to tell her that Axolotls regenerate their limbs.

“Does that really matter?” she asked, bewildered. 

I’d sighed in frustration before saying, “It does, Granger, but we have no choice. It’s the next ingredient. If it makes you feel any better, I will handle collecting the legs, and you don’t even have to be around.”

She’d blinked at me, still embittered, but nodded stiffly.

After spending quite some time tromping through some shallow creeks, Harry and I were able to catch four of the unfortunate creates, deciding taking one leg from four different ones was obviously less cruel than taking four from one. 

Hermione sat far down the river, out of sight around the next bend while Harry held the walking fish, and I did what I promised the witch I’d do. 

The next ingredient Hermione found, only some time after our 3pm “dinner”, and thank fucking Merlin it didn’t include mutilating a creature to attain it.

We were on high ground at this point, having taken to hiking up the tall hill at the very northern point of the mountain. A small vial of squid ink, and numbing agent when used in potions, had been wrapped in a bit of purple cloth, placed atop a rock, plain for all to see.

Harry and I had been miffed, because he and I had been looking at far less conspicuous places.

By the time we found the vial of squid ink, it was already pushing 4 p.m. We were exhausted from running around the island all day. With five of the seven ingredients found, and 18 hours until we had to start the potion, we decided to take a break.

Hermione dissaparated from the hilltop, and Harry and I followed her, landing in the tent.

As we landed, Harry said to the witch, “This is sooooo much easier than hunting Horcruxes.”

“Soooooo much!” the witch agreed enthusiastically.

“I almost feel like suggesting a nap instead of sleeping, so that we can take on the last two. Stay ahead of schedule.”

“In the dark?” Hermione asked.

“Do you hear yourself?” Harry asked, a smile creeping along his face. “In the dark?” he asked in a sissy voice that sounded too much like his whiney mate Ron for me not to smile a short second.

“Oh, come off it. You know what I mean,” the witch answered with a roll of her eyes at Harry’s growing grin.

“No. I don’t think I do. You’ve faced scarier things than the dark.”

“I know. Including living alone in a tent with you for a month! It’s a good thing we’ll only be here a couple of days.”

“That’s still not as frightening as your mushroom soup,” he countered with a sly grin.

“Let’s not mention that ever again,” she said in, mostly, mock seriousness. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry answered, giving her a military salute. She still grinned at this, and it lit up the tent as she pushed Harry lightly on the shoulder. 

A part of me saw to me turning away from the two friends. I felt left out, which was to be expected, but another part of me was intrigued by the things they were saying, and I didn’t really want to butt in and stop the conversation. I knew little about their time spent on the run, and here they were, giving me more clues to a section in their lives I was highly curious about.

I moved quietly from the door to my cot, setting down the pack as I sat beside it, the two continuing on.

“The next ingredient is a vial of Muddled Moss...” Hermione said. “If you were a vial of Muddled Moss,” she began to ask, her eyes on Harry, “where would you be?”

“In the potions stores at Hogwarts,” he answered with a sly grin. 

I have to admit that I liked the expression on him all too much.

“Shut your gob!” she exclaimed. “We’re not going to chance it.”

“We chance everything.”

“Not this time. McGonagall will know. So… Perhaps buried? Stashed in a cave? Sunk to the bottom of the ocean?” She jumped up to sit on the countertop, then wordlessly and wandlessly Summoned a bright green apple from the fruit bowl at the center of the table and took a bite.

I titled my head at her curiously. 

Harry joined her on the countertop, saying, “Any of those sound good to me.” He took her apple and stole a bite before handing it back, musing as he chewed, “We found the Dittany on the forest floor, the Axolotls in that creek… The vial of squid ink on the top of the hill…”

The map suddenly flew from the table and into the dark-haired wizard’s hand, without him saying a thing. He opened it, and the witch leaned in close to him to join in him in studying the parchment, while I studied them.

For a moment I had to look back and forth between them in shock. They’d obviously been practicing wandless wordless magic, something I thought only 50+ year old witches and wizards could accomplish. Though I was surprised by this, I wasn’t all that effected. If anyone could achieve that before their time, it would be Harry and Hermione.  
They were both highly skilled, and, not to mention, as I sat staring at them, quite attractive. 

They both had good facial features, Hermione with her heart-shaped face, and full lips, and golden eyes that seemed to hold the answers to everything; and Harry with eyes as green as the jungle that surrounded us, a squared jaw, and lips that seemed to smile impishly whenever he wasn’t in harm’s way.

Their physiques were just as appealing, for Harry had filled out, not nearly the scrawny waif he had once been. His half buttoned shirt with its rolled up sleeves showed a strong muscled chest, and forearms that had been toned and tanned. His trousers helped nil in my avoiding how they fit rather tight over his muscular thighs. And the woman? Well, there was no doubt that she was just that. Her uniforms used to hang on her like a bag, her body once so flat it was sad. But now the garments mostly served as a way to allude to her femininity, especially since she’d removed her oxford and was wearing only a tank top, flashing great expanses of gold and cocoa skin that clashed against the stark white of the fabric.

It had been hot as hell running around the jungle, and I can’t say that I didn’t allow my eyes to wander to the bits of skin they both showed off. Climbing up a hill behind either of them had been an eye-catching mistake I made all too often. 

Well… It was kind of a mistake.

“Hey, Draco,” Harry said suddenly, eyes still downcast on the map.

“Yes?” I answered. “For a moment I thought you had both forgotten I was here.” Hermione looked up to frown at my words, her lips wrapped around the apple mid-bite, and in a suggestive way that caused my mind to wander. She tilted her head as she lifted a brow.

“Nonsense,” Harry answered.

Hermione popped her lips from the apple to say, “I did.”

“Shush,” Harry lightly scolded her, before looking up to me to ask, “Do you see the pattern?” He held the map out, and I rolled my eyes at Hermione- out of habit, really- as I stood to walk closer, grabbing the map and standing only a foot away from the two on the counter.

I gave Hermione a glance, noticing she still glared at me, and I looked back at the map with irritation, only for the expression to change as I saw what Harry had seen. In the places we had walked, where the map had seen fit to reveal itself, the pattern was obvious.

The ingredients were in an almost perfect circle, where I was sure the last two were hidden on the far western side of the island where the map was still blank.

I wandlessly accio’d the ink and quill from the table, something that was easy for me as long as I spoke, and set the map down on the counter between their hips. Harry slid down the counter a bit to give me enough space to work as I began to mark the locations of our ingredients, and though the map was blank in one area, I put the marks where I believed the last two could possibly be, which completed the circle.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep now,” Hermione said as she jumped down from the counter to stand with her chest barely resting against my arm as she looked around me and to my handiwork. 

The feeling of her so close to me started a reaction that I did not want to think about. I glanced to Harry’s leg, which rested against my hip as he leaned over for a better look at the map as well, and, suddenly, I was boxed in. Or, I felt that way at least.

With a heat rising up my chest I glanced to Harry, then turned a bit to look at Hermione, both of their faces but inches from mine. I then looked back to Harry, only to find his eyes waiting for me. He lifted a black brow at me as we began to study each other’s faces- much like we’d done back at Easter- before the both of us turned to look at Hermione. 

For a second her eyes were downcast to the map, but then she must have felt our gazes, because her golden- brown orbs snapped up to look between us as she blinked… then her wheels must have turned far enough, because she backed away from me, and at being freed I backed away from both of them.

There was stretch of silence where we all looked at each other in turn, before the witch said, “Never mind. I think I need to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Harry began as he jumped off of the counter, but had to clear his throat before continuing, “I think that’s a good idea.”

I said nothing as I turned from them, sure to hide the flush I just knew was there, and I moved to my cot where I kicked off my shoes. I then sat at the end and began to unbutton my shirt. I’d earlier thought of removing it as we’d been running around the forest, but instead settled for rolling up my sleeves and unbuttoning the top few buttons of my oxford, for I was sure no sun blocking charm would work on the paleness of my skin.

I was accustomed to standing in the heat and humidity as I brewed, so the mugginess of the jungle had had little effect on me. But the sun? No way. I’d lived in a dungeon for a while, and had grown to love not being burned to a crisp.

But there was something else I was accustomed to, and that was sleeping starkers. 

As I thought on what to do about this, the lights in the tent went out, but, in the light of the day that stilled blared into the tent through the crack of the door, I could see all too well as the other two began strip to their skivvies; Harry wearing only his dark blue, possibly black, boxer shorts, and Hermione wore nothing but a pair of white knickers and her see-through white tank top. She was working on removing her bra the Muggle way, and when she was finished I noticed her dark nipples through the fabric. 

So many a thing crossed my mind at that moment that I couldn’t help but stare at them as my mind reeled; ‘Wow. They seem comfortable. Don’t they know I’m here? They obviously don’t care. They also seem not to care about seeing each other this way. Strange… Where the hell did Granger get those thighs? And Potter? Where did you get that arse? Whoa! Granger! Where did you get that arse?!’

My eyes were stuck on them when they both turned to look at me. They must have noticed that I’d gone still, and felt that I’d been staring, all wide-eyed and daft. Harry adopted his usual look of mischief, with an added brow lift, while Hermione looked at me with slight curiosity, before she grew a haughty expression and turned from me with a “humph”. My eyes then darted back to Harry, and I noticed his look of pure, slightly mocking, amusement.

I averted my eyes quickly here, down to my socked feet, and quietly took a deep breath through my nose to stop myself from having to strong a physical reaction, and for a few seconds I had an internal battle… one of many to come. 

My first initial reaction was to pretend I hadn’t seen a thing and I lie under my covers before spelling my clothes to lie at the end of my bed. You know, try and convince myself I hadn’t completely embarrassed myself enough not to sleep. But, of course, there was a second option that came to me, one that I found to be far more fun, and far less humiliating, considering Harry’s look of enjoyment at my expense.

Without much of a thought, except “Three can play that game”, I stood once more and began to strip the Muggle way as well, keeping my eyes on the floor as I said, “I think I’ll shower first, actually.” I threw my shirt on the bed, and dropped my trousers. I then tore off my socks and set them by my other clothes before spelling the garments clean. When I turned back to them, it was to find that the other two were giving me looks I assumed were similar to those I’d worn only a minute before.

Hermione, after my catching her staring, quickly rolled over in her top bunk to settle in. I didn’t fail to miss her slightly widened eyes as they’d torn themselves from my backside. Harry, however, didn’t do anything to cover up the fact that he was staring. He simply gave a tilt of his head, and a slight nod of appreciation, before lying back onto his bed atop the covers. 

His eyes were closed as I passed him on my way to the loo, my mind trying not to think too long on the situation at hand, but I swear I could feel the green orbs on my back as I shut the door.


	2. Part 2

Potions (Part 2)  
Wednesday, September 9th, 1998 - 7:50 a.m. (GMT-4)/12:50 p.m. (GMT+0)  
-1 hours to go  
Potion Status: Complete

Hermione’s mouth formed a “Fuuuck!” as she threw her hands in the air, then took one chair by the table by its back before heaving it out the door of the tent and into the raging tropical storm outside.

I shook my head at her once more before grabbing my wand and Summoning the parchment, quill, and ink. I wrote a short note to Harry, ‘Is she alright? Does she do this often?’  
I knew why she was angry. She'd just told me why she wanted so badly to pass the test, beyond her usual need to be the best, but she was freaking the fuck out. We all wanted out. Not just her.

I held the paper out to Harry, and he read it. He then took the parchment and quill from my hands to reply, ‘She’s fine. She only does this when it comes to school. Otherwise she’s quiet and broody, generally agreeable, or the coolest cat to strut.’

‘She sounds like a loon,’ I wrote back. I looked up at her, watched her begin “yelling” at the Cauldron full of Poseidon's Peace for the tenth time, then turned back to add, ‘She looks like a loon.’

Harry smiled, then gave a small shrug as he took the quill and wrote back, ‘She sounds/looks like a girl, mate.’

I threw my head back and laughed soundlessly at his joke, but stopped the instant that the parchment was torn from my hands and landed in a glaring Hermione’s outstretched palm. Harry and I shared wide-eyed looks of terror as she began to read our short conversation.

It was funny to me how quickly Harry and I had ignored our shite from the past, and yet Hermione still acted like I was scum… Save the hug she’d given me the night before last.

Hermione looked up at us, and held the parchment out to yell silently, “Do you think this is funny?”

Harry shook his head no; I nodded mine yes. I summoned the paper back from her and wrote, ‘You look like you’re stark-raving mad, Granger. Get a grip! We have more important things to do than wreck the tent. Like figure out how we're going to get back to school without a Portkey.’

I held it out for her to call it back. She did so and read it, before she called the quill from my hand, dipped it in the ink pot that sat beside the cooling cauldron, and began to write. I stood to sidle up behind to her, stopping with my chest nearly to her back as I read over her shoulder.  
‘If you would have been more of a help during the Lethifold attack, we wouldn’t be here right now.’

She moved away from me after I plucked the quill out of her hand to respond. While I wrote she Summoned her wand from its usual place in her right knee-high sock and began to put the tent back to its rightful state.

‘You’re the most overbearing bint I have ever met! How am I supposed to want to work with you when it is so obvious you don’t want to work with me? And why would I want to work with you after all of the shite you’ve said?’

She had said some harsh words just before the potion finished brewing, things I'd never be able to forget, during our one genuine conversation. Not to mention all of the heart wrenching shite by the rocks, as well as all of the shade she'd been throwing. I mean, I could have a picnic under that shite.

Hermione was back when she heard me throw the quill down onto the parchment, and I took a step aside to allow her to take my place. I felt as Harry walked up behind me to peer over my shoulder at the conversation he was missing out on.

We both watched as she wrote, ‘How could you think that? After all of the things you’ve done and said to me?’

She turned on me, holding the parchment in my face angrily for me to look closer, which I did not need, but my scowl fell as I saw the tears trail down her cheeks to her chin.

If I hadn’t already been muted, I would have found no words to reply with, anyway.

(*)  
Monday September 7th, 1998 – 7:30 p.m. (GMT-4)/ Tuesday September 8th, 1998 – 12:30 a.m. (GMT+0)  
47 Hours to go  
Potion Status: Pending

“… because I really dig him, and it’s so fucking weird.”

“I feel the exact same way…”

“What happened?”

Hermione gave a sigh that, even in my freshly conscious state, sounded troubled, then said, “I don’t know. When would something like that occur? And for both of us?”

The two Gryffs stopped talking, and in their silence I began to stir, stretching and rolling onto my back in the dim light of the tent.  
I groaned as I stretched again, and then rolled once more so that I could sit up with the support of my elbow and look at the two who shared the bunk bed. But, instead of Hermione being in her top bunk, she and Harry were laying on his bottom one.

With the single candle lit I could see that she lay with her right leg over his waist and her head and hand on his chest, her fingers playing along a spot between his pecs. The wizard’s one hand was rubbing the elbow of her hand that played on his muscled chest, whereas his other hand was lost in her hair, kneading her scalp between a mass of ringlets.

What sucked was that I had had such a good sleep after my shower, but now I was plagued with a jealousy that seemed to gnaw at my heart at the sight of them intertwined, comfortable, able to be openly affectionate with the other… And that bothered me immensely.  
Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

At noticing my sitting up, Hermione mimicked my action of resting on her elbow, forcing Harry to dislodge his digits from her hair, looking at me from across the tent to ask, “Ready to find that moss?”

I looked at her, hating how I noticed her beauty at a time like this, with her partial nudity. I quickly looked away, only to pause on Harry, noticing the same of him. I had to close my eyes and shake my head in an attempt to lose my shoddy feelings, as well as to try and blink away the images that were burned into my brain from the night before; their physical attributes dancing behind closed lids.

Standing up I moved to grab my pants from the end of the bed, slipping them up my legs while not giving a shite that the two behind me were getting one hell of an encore. I moved to get some water from the fridge, determined to ignore both of them for at least a few more seconds.

I took a long drink of water from a bottle, calming myself, because, believe it or not, I’m a Slytherin. I work to get what I want, and what I wanted was to pass our test. There were other things I was coming to quickly realize that I wanted just as badly, but first things first.

“Yes,” I finally answered, turning to look at the two who were still on the bed. “Are you?” I was sure I sounded angrier than I wanted to, but I stuck to my constitution as I stared at them until they began to get up and dress. Then I lost my grip as I felt a strong reaction at seeing the two of them, once again, in such a state of undress.

They both had amazing arses! And there was no way I was going to be able to forget it.

(*)  
Monday, September 7th, 1998 – 10:05 p.m. (GMT-4)/Tuesday, September 8th, 1998 – 3:05 a.m. (GMT+0)  
31 hours to go  
Potion Status: Pending  
(9 hours until potion must be started)

We were somewhere outside of the western tree line, on the edge of the ocean, when the frustration began to take a hold.

The vial of Muddled Moss wasn’t in any of the places I’d marked on the map. We were now contemplating the idea of the ingredient being atop another rock… which sat out on the ocean some twenty-five meters away. The moon was not yet out, and none of us could see what was out there in the dark. 

“I’ll go check,” I said, unfolding my arms and Apparating atop the large boulder. I cast a Lumos as I landed, feeling the warm, wet, salty wind hit my face as I searched for a vial or more purple fabric. I checked the small surface, then around the edges. I even went so far as to Transfigure a broom from the quill I always kept in my pocket, for this reason, and flew around the outer edge, looking down through the clear water and a school of fish to check the sides of the boulder below the water's surface.

I flew back when I found nothing, landing near the dizzying duo to state, “Nothing.”

Hermione growled in frustration as Harry sighed, the bespectacled man turning to look back at the tree line, asking, “What the fuck?”

“We’ve looked everywhere,” Hermione said.  
“Even in that cave.”

“Let’s go back there and check again,” Harry suggested.

The witch shook her head, then conceded, “Might as well.” She looked down at the map and letter in her hands, sighing as she looked from one to the other. Then she froze and tilted her head, saying, “A vial of Muddled Moss and a Lyre Bush branch?! When the hell did a Lyre Bush branch become an ingredient?”  
Harry and I moved to either side of her, and I held up my Lumos alongside hers to look. Earlier, when I had looked at the list, Lyre branch had not been on it, and especially not with a note in parentheses:

102 mm long Lyre Bush branch. (This is the only plant of its kind on the island.)

“Perfect!” Harry exclaimed, obviously happy with the discovery. “We’ll be able to spot it if it’s unique. Did either of you spot a strange looking plant?”

“Wait. First things first,” Hermione interjected.  
“Where the hell is the Muddled Moss? Are you sure it wasn’t out on the rock? If the Lyre branch showed up, then that means you found it.”

“I didn’t see anything,” I reminded her.  
She frowned before demanding, “Take me there.”

I wanted to ask why she didn’t want to Apparate, but instead rolled my eyes and mounted my broom, and she climbed on behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and setting her chest to my back. I swallowed rather hard at the feeling, and I glanced at Harry to see how he felt about Hermione’s choice in flyer. He didn’t even seem to notice. He simply conjured and mounted his own broom, and kicked off for the rock.

I followed him, and the three of us dismounted onto the boulder’s small surface. My body noticed the lack of heat once the witch let me go, and I tried not to think of how it felt to have her wrap her arms around me. It was intoxicating. 

Harry moved to stand closer to me as Hermione began to look around with her Lumos, and, just like that, my body was pulled in an entirely different direction. Ever since I stood a little too close to them earlier, before our nap, before my shower, I’d been unable to avoid thinking of them, and then you add my seeing them lying half-naked together, and I’d been on a south-rolling train ever since.

In the past three hours since then, I’d been battling between jealousy and want, and it was becoming exceedingly hard to concentrate. And, to top it all off, I could swear that they were toying with me. Ok. Probably not Hermione, though I had caught her looking at me a little more than usual, but it seemed that Harry had been making a point of fucking with my mind.

First, he reached to stop me from stepping on a large spider, but instead of grabbing my arm or taking my collar, he’d set his hand on my chest and left it there as we both watched the spider crawl away. Then he gave me a wink and patted my chest before he walked to catch up with Hermione.

The second instance had been an hour ago, when we’d gone to climb up onto one of the many rock formations on this side of the island. I’d lost my footing for a quick second, and he was down below and behind me, lower on the rocks, and he grabbed my arse to keep me from falling back on him. I’d nearly fallen off sideways I was so shocked. His hand hadn’t lingered, but still, it had started a spark of electricity that shot through my body and ended in my sack.

Now, his back was to my chest, and I had to draw a deep breath as I tried to keep my eyes on the witch, which didn’t help me either, for she’d resorted to going down on her knees, nearly touching her nose to the rock. From where we stood Harry and I got a rather good look at the back of her thighs.

It had seemed, to me, that Harry had had many a look at the backside of the witch- though I’d never mention it first, for that would raise too many unwanted conversations- but the dark expanse of her legs was quite noticeable in my Lumos.

Between the two of them it was likely I’d have a hernia, stemming from some pent-up aggression and unreleased sexual frustration.

“Oi! Look at this!” Hermione said, waving us over without lifting her nose. In fact, she seemed to lower it, the bottoms of her butt becoming visible in her doing so. Harry moved- Finally! Thank God!- and went to squat down beside her, but that left me no room to look as well. I mounted my broom and flew around to float just above the water before them, and I tried to see what she was seeing.  
“What is it?” I asked.

Hermione looked up to me, saying with a light sigh, “Muddled Moss, Draco.” She looked back to the moss as she went on, “You must have brought some back on your shoes or something. That’s why the Lyre branch showed up on the list. We need to obtain a vial full, not find an already full vial.”

I grinned at the top of her downturned head at the sound of my name being said so casually, and I watched as she Conjured a vial and a scalpel to begin scraping the black moss off of the rock, filling the vial to the top before Conjuring a cork to close it with. She stood, holding the vial out for me to take, and I put the vial in my pocket for safekeeping.

We flew back to the beach, Hermione choosing her bestie as her flyer this time, and as we landed Harry asked once more, “So. Either of you see any interesting bushes?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrinking my broom and putting it in my pocket before crossing my arms over my chest. Then added out of habit, “Have you seen any interesting bushes lately?”  
I glanced at Hermione purposefully.

The unexpected happened here: Harry stifled a laugh behind his hand. Once the words left my mouth I decided that I needed to keep working on thinking before speaking, but Harry’s smile only made me grow one of my own.  
Hermione, however, scowled deeply at us both before she turned to walk back towards the tree-line, a stomp in her step.

When she was out of earshot, Harry turned to say, “Just so that you know, because you know…” Oh, how I did. Their position on Harry's cot earlier had been far too familiar to be anything but telling. “Yes, we’re shagging. No, Ron doesn’t know. And yes, if you tell anyone, I will have to kill you, because if I don’t, she will.”  
That was all I needed to hear to say, “Well played. My lips are sealed.”

Seriously. My biggest fear since she’d punched me in the face in third year was dying at Hermione Granger’s hands. I knew she knew some things that would make my death utterly horrific, and I wanted to avoid it all costs. She even surpassed Voldemort, because women were far more creative with revenge. My aunt taught be that.

And yet I still made the comment about her bush... That may have gotten a little close to the edge of a boundary, one I had a light intention of pushing despite knowing it could get me killed.

“Good on you, mate,” Harry said, patting my shoulder, and then took off after Hermione as he called over his shoulder, “Let’s go find some strange bush.

I open-mouth laughed before making after him, and when I caught up with the wizard, who was still some meters behind the witch, I asked in a low voice, “So- what happened to Little Red?”

He shrugged as he answered plainly, “She’s with some bloke she met about a month ago. He plays for a Uni Quidditch team.”

“Which team?” I asked, for I followed University Quidditch as much as I followed the professional league.

“Uh- Tobey Brighton from-”

“From the Merlin University Owls,” I finished in his pausing.

“That’s the one,” he confirmed with a snap of his fingers. “I'm sure it will be all over the papers soon enough…”

“Well. It could be worse,” I said, then added mentally, ‘She could have picked Finnigan or gone back to Thomas.’

“Yeah. True,” he accepted. “But I’m happy for them. He’s introducing her to all of the people who play, and sponsors and all of that. I suspect he’ll be getting her in contact with his coach when she graduates. She was talking of going to university there.”

“Good for her,” I said. I truly meant it, for she was a good flyer, and a commendable player. She had the potential to go far in Quidditch.  
Of course I'd never say this, nor would I ever mention that I feared her some.

The second scariest woman in the world was the Weasley mum, followed by McGonagall, followed by the Weasley daughter. Bella and Hermione used to rate somewhere the same, at the top, however on opposite sides of the spectrum.

“Hm,” was all that Harry managed at my praise of Ginny’s seemingly good fortune. Then he added after many beats, “She gets to be with a Quidditch star.”

It took all I could not to turn into Theo when Blaise complained about the way he looked in the mirror. My one housemate would groan, saying, “Merlin, I need to do something about my lack of abs.”

To which Theo would scoff, rolling his eyes at Blaise’s eight-pack, saying, “Whatever! Are you even looking at yourself?!”

Then Blaise would say something like, “Of course I am!” or “Do these boxers make my arse look fat?”

Anyway, I wanted to look at Harry, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him while yelling, “Are you even looking at yourself!?”

Instead, I said with a smirk, “And you get Hermione Granger. Now- who do you suspect wins, here?”

Anyone- ANYONE- would agree that Harry's lucky arse had only gotten somehow luckier at this occurrence.

Harry scoffed with a smirk, his eyes ahead on Hermione’s Lumos that glowed green through the leaves, saying, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you think rather highly of her. Despite being so fucking mean...” I rolled my eyes at this. “Or was that just your way of showing her you cared?”

I blinked rapidly at him in surprise, unable to roll my eyes at this question, pausing in my steps as I stared at him stupidly.

He laughed before settling back on a smile to say, “Look! Now we both have a secret to keep. All’s fair, and all that.”

“Are you two even looking?!” Hermione called back to us, and Harry sped up to catch up with her, leaving me to look after him, stock-still and speechless.

I remained stationary for a few seconds more, playing through my newly acquired info, and I was forced to wonder ever harder at what Harry was playing at. 

What the fuck was he playing at? Saying and asking what he had in the manner he had? Why would he even mention my caring for her if she was his?

My mind gave me a list of possibilities, and a number of them saw my heartbeat quickening and sending quite a bit of blood south, but I tried to calm it because there was no way he was thinking what I thought he was thinking… Right?

“Did you die, Draco?” Harry called, voice distant, and I scoffed as I shook my head and broke into a trot.

“Where are we even going? Shouldn’t we be taking our time and looking closer?” I called as I neared them.

“We’re going to check the points on the map first, then we’ll think of something else,” Hermione answered.

I did not fight her on this idea, and I followed her as she led us back to the beginning of the rock formation, the section that held the small cave. Once again nothing came of it, and we began to head towards the next point.

Hermione, our fearless leader, decided that she would take the western side of the rocks, which ran north to south and spanned almost two miles, and that I would take the Eastern, leaving Harry to boulder along the top; Hermione and I still were able to hear each other as long as we yelled, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence as it is.

I searched high and low, under trees and behind them, between boulders, and after fifteen minutes of searching while hiking, I heard Hermione call,

“I think I might have found it!”

I scrunched my brows, because we hadn't yet reached the next mark on our map, but I still took to scaling the rocks in an attempt to reach her and see the bush for myself.

I heard Harry call from above, “What does it look like? It looks different from everything else, right?” His voice was distant, as if he'd gone farther down the top of the formation than Hermione and I had been able to reach on the ground.

“It’s actually kind of- small,” she answered.

“Ha! Small bush!” Harry laughed back.  
I shook my head as I silently laughed at his immaturity. 

“Can the both of you cut it out? It’s not funny!” Hermione yelled.

“I sure as hell think it is,” I called back as I neared the top, my smile still in my voice. I wasn’t supposed to be picking on her, but I couldn’t always help it, remember?

“Why? Been dreaming about my bush, have you?” she yelled.

I almost froze in my steps, because, well, yes. I had been. I was just surprised she said it.

I looked along the top of the rocks to search for Harry, but didn't see him, and absently decided he'd already made his descent as I began to make mine. Hermione had made it a few more meters along than I had, her Lumos glowing farther down the trail than in the spot I decided to use to descend.

“What if I was?” I taunted as I made my way down with sure footing. I really couldn’t help it. She sounded so peeved! It was hilarious. 

Besides. When else were she and I going to be able to talk about it?

“Malfoy,” she yelled, her voice closer than last time. “If your conceited, in-bred, pale, blood-supremacist arse ever talks about my bush again, I’ll curse you to death.”

I smirked, answering, “Don’t get so irritated, Granger. I wouldn’t touch you with a nine meter wand.”

“Liar!” she answered. 

I was. Still, she was getting annoyed with me, so I decided to defuse the situation some, saying, “Fine. Maybe I’d touch you with an eight meter wand.” My feet hit the ground here, and I began to walk towards her until she began to yell,

“Seriously, Malfoy! Never in a million years would I consider you! Any good qualities you may have are trumped by a multitude of terrible ones! You’re a liar, and a coward, and I would rather die! Harry! Where are you?”

I was frozen in my spot around a boulder from where I saw her wand light flashing about. I had been so trapped in my mind, thinking about her spiteful words, regretting past decisions, that I barely noticed her yell again, “Harry! Where are you? ...Harry! Malfoy!”

She appeared around the corner, breaking me from my trance, yelling, “Malfoy! Have you seen him?!”

Hearing Hermione Granger panic would instill terror into anyone’s heart, and I felt just that as I blinked at her for a few seconds as her words registered. I stopped looking at her to start running around the rocks, moving past her as I started looking for Harry in a sudden panic. I had no time to think of romantic notions once I realized that Harry had never answered her.  
“Harry?!” I yelled, looking around and up in search of him. “Harry!”

After only thirty or so strides down the path Hermione had been on, I stopped mid-step, and Hermione ran into my back. I caught us both from falling at the force of our contact by reaching one arm back and around her, stopping her in a surprise and fear so strong, one she must have matched, for neither of us noticed I grabbed her by a globe of her arse.

Some ten paces ahead, in the glow of our Lumos’, I saw a cloak covering what I could only guess was Harry’s body, the telling of which being that his wand lay glowing only a meter from his hand outstretched from under the creature the encompassed him.

The cloak-like creature, a Lethifold if I ever saw one, heard me draw near, and in an instant it shuddered, abandoning Harry’s limp, bleeding form as it quickly glided along the forest floor towards Hermione and me. My backwards arm gripped her tighter as I began to push her away, sending first an Imobolulus at the creature, then a Confringo, both of which only bounced off the cloak and hit the rock formation and a tree, sending bits of debris flying.

“Expecto Patronum!” Hermione cast the charm from around my arm, a bright light emitting from the tip of her wand, which soon turned into an otter that instantly saw fit to chase the Lethifold through the trees. We watched the two forms go for only a second before turning to run to Harry, and it was a terrible sight.

The Lethifold, a creature known to suffocate its victims to death before devouring them, had already begun to make work of the Gryffindor wizard, and I fought the urge to lose my mind as Hermione and I fell to his side, me assessing the damage to his back while the witch checked his pulse.

She gave a loud sob as she said, “He’s alive!”  
I didn’t notice I had been holding my breath until I exhaled loudly in relief, which instilled a strange calm in me that lead me to say, “You need to go get the Lyre branch, and I’m taking him back to the tent.”

She looked up to me with a scowl, but I stopped her from replying by Summoning Harry's wand and grabbing him by the arm before Disapparating.

We appeared in the tent, on the carpeted floor by the table, and I instantly set Harry's wand on the table by our Portkey before raising my own wand to Summon a few healing draughts from the school’s infirmary.

I waited, and nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled, then ground out, “That bint is fucking mad!” 

I was talking about McGonagall, because she had kept the barrier around the storerooms. She had thought of everything for this exam, and yet forgot one crucial fact, which was Harry's knack for getting himself fucked up by one creature or another. If she'd thought of that, she might have allowed for us to use the infirmary’s stores.  
But there was not much time for dwelling, for, from here, I immediately moved to step one of Plan B.

First I cast a blood slowing spell on the Man Who Still Lived before moving him to my bunk with a Leviosa, where I began to study the wounds he’d sustained. Almost his entire back side was covered in little bleeding holes, noticeable by the blood pooling into the white fabric of his shirt from the thousands of Lethifold teeth that had tried to devour him, and his clothes were so torn I banished them without another thought. I then spelled the thin sheet I had slept atop earlier to move out from under him, and cover him up to his waist before turning to the stove.

Next I removed some of the water from the cauldron we had kept at 3.8 liters for a day now, and then turned on the burner. Then I began to conjure all of the implements, cauldrons and glass rods and athames, I would need to make a healing draught and a skin-grow salve. I had none of these potions in my private stores at home because no one had taken the time to brew healing draughts in my house for over a year. Other things, such as pain and torture, were far more important. Whatever I did have had long surpassed its shelf-life, for once the potions were finished they only kept for about six months. It wasn't like storing ingredients.  
Even Severus, potions extraordinaire, couldn't figure out a way to sustain their magic much longer than this.

As I Summoned ingredients from home, something that took some time, and in that time the telling pop of Hermione’s Apparition sounded from behind me, and I turned, asking, “Did you get it?”

“Did you notice there are no animals on or around this island?” she asked as she moved to Harry, beginning to cast spells wordlessly to begin cleaning him up and assess him.

“What? The Lethifold is an animal. A creature,” I said, furrowing my brows. Where was the Lyre branch?

“Besides the Lethifold,” she said. “I think it ate all of the other land mammals. It doesn’t usually begin to eat its prey until it has already killed it. My guess is that it must have been starving… because it came back after you left.”

My eyes grew wide, for I had noticed during my set up and addressing Harry that she’d been gone longer than I assumed she would have.  
I asked in distress, “Are you alright?” as I moved to her to look at her closer for any signs of injury.

She did not look at me, pulling away from my hand as I reached out, going on when I dropped my arm to my side, “I figured that the Patronus wouldn’t be effective enough to keep it at bay, so I tried a couple of curses before eventually dropping a boulder on one of its corners. It’s still there. I’ll release it before we leave.” My face went sour at her sentiment. “It must have been starving to attack so aggressively, which means it’s been years since anyone has been to check on Reyalla. I’m going to have to give Kingsley a piece of my mind for not ensuring the safety of this biome.”

I threw my hands up as I stood, frustrated and heaving a loud sigh, demanding, “Give me the Lyre branch, Granger, so I can get us all out of here and you can get right on with your creature activism, because I’m sure the immediate safety of an abandoned old island was the first of Kingsley’s worries over the summer.” 

She was silent a couple of seconds, before admitting in a soft whisper, “I don’t have it.”

I blinked down at her before saying, “In the whispered words of the Virgin Mary, come again?”

“I. Don’t. Have. It.” She answered through gritted teeth.

“And why is that?” I demanded to know, my voice edging with angry confusion.

“Because I blew it up, ok?” she yelled, standing quickly to get into my face whilst using her tiptoes, which would have been adorable had it not been for our situation. “You left me alone out there with that thing, and I did what I could, and I fucking blew it up! With a curse! There’s no bush, Malfoy! The test is over. We failed!”

“We?!” I asked loudly.

“Yes! We! I could have used your help out there! And instead you left me!”

“Here’s a news flash, Granger! I can’t cast a Patronus!” She blinked up at me through her scowl, and I went on despite my embarrassment at my admission, “And last I checked, that’s the only way to get rid of it, so I would have been no help either way! You’re the most battle ready, so you were the obvious choice, ma’am!”

“Well now we’re fucked! Happy?!” she shrilled.  
“Oh, no.” I said with a glare, my voice low. “We’re not fucked. Not yet.”

I turned back to the stove-top, Conjuring another cauldron to the last burner, then took it upon myself to begin Summoning more ingredients from my stores at the Manor, which had grown immense since I’d been deemed Severus Snape’s legal beneficiary in his will.

“You’re Summoning ingredients?!” she yelled at me in surprise and rage.

“Take your knickers out of your arse and reread that letter. It says no Conjuring or Summoning ingredients for our “potion”, not “potions”! Besides, I tried Summoning elixirs from Hogwarts, but McGonagall’s batty arse left barriers on the infirmary storeroom. So this is the only way we’re going to heal Harry properly.”

Hermione said nothing else to fight me, and for many seconds she stayed stationary until she decided to move to stand at my side, looking between the four cauldrons and asking, “What are you brewing?”

I pointed to the first pewter cauldron, which had been originally intended for our mystery potion, “This is a healing draught,” I pointed to the silver cauldron, “This is a skin-gro salve,” then I pointed to the gold cauldron, “and this will be Regrowth.”

“Regrowth?” she asked.

“Do you really need to ask?” I frowned at her, and she returned it readily. “It’s self-explanatory, Granger. It is a potion that Severus taught my mother to grow the roses back that I destroyed with uncontrolled magic when I was five… and then again when I was seven. It works well against the effect of Dark Magic.”

I began to work, and she inquired, “Do you need a book?”

“No. I’ve memorized these,” I answered simply.

“Upon Severus’ request I memorized many potions. He said I would eventually notice a pattern, and soon be able to recognize and create potions simply because I knew their properties, being able to know what one did when mixed with the other.”

She was silent again for near a minute before asking, “Do you recognize our potion yet?”

“No. I do not. I’ve never used Ghost Crab for anything before. All other crustaceans are usually used for potions dealing with healing or fortune. Fire Crab shells, which are made mostly out of gems and jewels, serve well for advanced versions of the Felix Felicis and Fare Water.”

“I always knew Snape showed you favoritism,” she began, “but he seemed to have been more like your mentor.” Her statement was said softly, and more of a question, really.

I said, “He was my Godfather, and I was the only thing like a son he ever had.”

She nodded shallowly at this, then stated, “He could cast a Patronus…”

My jaw tightened some, guilt at leaving her alone due to my own incompetence wrecked my features for the thousandth time that year, but I replied, “I am aware.”

“It was a doe. Did you know that?”

“I did.”

“Did you know that it was the same as Lily Potter’s Patronus?”

I didn’t.

I took in a deep breath as I turned to look at her, asking, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” she said lightly, slowly, thoughtfully. “I figured you might like to know if you didn’t… Obviously you loved him.”

“How can you love a man you didn't know?” I asked her, hating the feelings our conversation was already dredging up.

She looked at me with a strange expression, her eyes darting back and forth between mine, saying, “I don’t know. You tell me.” I could not respond, and in my silence she said, “I think that you knew him. He was only kind with you, and in the end we learned his love and kindness were boundless- and brave. You knew him, probably better than anyone.”

She took a step back, putting her hands back on the countertop, and she pushed herself up onto the surface to sit, asking, “Do you think the Regrowth will work?”

I could not have been more grateful that she changed the subject herself, and I turned away from her as I said, “There’s only one way to find out.”

“How long will it take to brew?”

“Only an hour. The skin grow takes about that long, and the healing potion takes three. I’m brewing them just to be safe. That prat didn’t live this long to be taken out by a Lethifold, I’ll tell you that much.”

She lifted a brow at me as she asked yet another question, “How often do you love men you claim not to know?”

I almost choked on my intake of air, looking up at her in bewilderment as I asked, “I beg your pardon? He’s my teammate, Granger! I need to do something! That isn’t love!”

“Whoa, Regina,” she said, lifting her hands up in defense at my tone. “Calm down… But you did just prove me right.”

I glared at her, because this was true, and that angered me some. I said, “I proved nothing. Except that you’re delusional.”

“Whatever,” she said, dropping her hands and rolling her eyes. Then she smirked at me, saying, “Get a move on, Drama Queen. We technically have all night, but let’s not rest on our laurels.”

“Well,” I said with a deep frown at her words, “Get off of your laurel and help me brew this Regrowth.”

“Yes, sir,” she said jokingly with a salute, much like Harry had earlier, and then jumped off the countertop to begin listening avidly as I gave her directions.

(*)  
September 8th, 1998 – 2:15 a.m. (GMT-4)/5:15 a.m. (GMT+0)  
29 hours to go  
Potion Status: Pending  
(6 hours until potion must be started)

The Lethifold’s violent thrashing, caused by it still being trapped under the boulder, was audible as Hermione and I Apparated to the top of the rocks, too cautious to land on the forest floor in case the creature had escaped and still lurked nearby. At the sound of the creature’s distress, Hermione grabbed my arm and Apparated us to ground level, just before the black patch in the rocks that used to be the Lyre Bush.

I handed her the vial of Regrowth, and she popped the cork as she drew near and poured the silver-green substance onto the scorch mark. She stepped back and we waited.

After a few seconds she asked, “How long will it take?”

“Not too long,” I said. “It depends on the damage. What do you suppose hit it? What curses did you use?”

“Oh- you know. A Cruciatus.”

“Nice,” I approved with a short series of nods. I felt a Crucio quite fitting, considering the way it had tortured Harry.

“And an Avada Kedavra,” she added without looking up to me.

“You were going to kill it?” My eyes bulged out of my head. “I thought you were some progressive advocate?”

“It got really close, ok? Shite…” She shuffled her feet, and I could only guess her disapproving frown was directed at herself.

I smirked at her, saying, “It’s always nice to get a daily reminder that you’ll kill me without a second thought.”

“If I hadn’t thought twice by now, Malfoy, you’d be dead,” she said easily. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Noted,” I said with a frown, before taking a half step away from her.

Another minute or two passed by, and I began to worry. It didn’t usually take this long, but if the Lyre had been hit by an Avada Kedavra, it was a goner, and that meant we really had failed our test.

Just as my brain started to leak doubt into my stomach, a small green spark was seen coming from between the rocks, and Hermione jumped, grabbing my hand as she did so, pulling me forward with her with a yank to get a better look as more and more sparks began to fly, bringing with them new branches and leaves of the Lyre Bush.

I almost told her she was the one who was too close this time, but she cut me off with a squeal of happiness and excitement, then let go of my hand to wrap her arms around my middle in a quick hug, saying, “Oh my, Merlin! It worked!”

She pulled away, leaving me standing still in both surprise and embarrassment at my body noticing, once again, the feeling of hers, and the witch waited a few more seconds in anticipation as the bush grew back fully. She then plucked a 102 mm long branch.

Turning back to me she said, “Alright. Let’s fix Harry up and get that mystery potion brewing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A special thanks to Hunter S. Thompson for the quote from the movie “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”. As well as Guy Ritchie for the quote from the movie “Snatch”. 
> 
> A/N: I also want to thank I was BOTWP for being my amazing beta! She helped me iron out some magical issues I had in this, so thank God for her!

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Leave a review. :)


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